


Throw the Careful into the Crazy

by Tabithian



Series: Through the Looking Glass [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's well into the third chapter of his book when he becomes aware of the sensation of being watched.  He thinks about ignoring it, but then there's the sound of a throat being cleared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throw the Careful into the Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/128306579844/some-vacation-au-prompts-bc-why-not) because reasons. *hands*

Tim's well into the third chapter of his book when he becomes aware of the sensation of being watched. He thinks about ignoring it, but then there's the sound of a throat being cleared.

Sighs inwardly, and lowers his book. 

“I'm sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if you would care to build a sand castle with me?”

Tim stares.

He hadn't planned on this, spending a day at the beach instead of working, but Steph and Cass make for a terrifying team. And for all his faults, even Tim's not stupid enough to try to take them on for something like this, a little time off from working himself into the ground. 

And now - 

"What?"

The kid, maybe ten, eleven, at the oldest glares at him. There's a plastic sand shovel gripped tight in one hand, the other balled up into a fist at his side.

“I said,” the kid says, teeth gritted, “Would you like to build a sand castle with me?”

Tim looks around at the other beach goers around them. Laughing and talking to their friends and loved ones, or relaxing under the summer sun. No one's looking in their direction, but Tim can feel the hairs on the back of his neck lifting all the same.

He looks back at the kid, and blinks, eyes sliding back to a guy a little ways away seemingly lounging on a beach blanket. He's wearing sunglasses so it's hard to tell if he's looking at them, or at something in their general direction.

“Did someone put you up to this?”

The kid's eyes narrow, and _oh_ , the look on his face.

“Are you going to stab me with that if I say no?” Tim asks, eyes going to the plastic sand shovel. 

“Only if you continue to annoy me,” the kid says.

Tim laughs, places a bookmark to mark his spot in the book and sets it aside.

“So charming,” he says. 

“Tt.”

********

Damian, as the kid grudgingly introduces himself to Tim as, has a specific vision for his sand castle. He clearly views Tim as nothing more than manual labor and orders Tim around with short commands. Sighing heavily when Tim deliberately...misinterprets his orders.

“I knew he was deficient,” Damian mutters when Tim knocks over one of the sand castle walls. “You did that on purpose.”

Tim shrugs. “Prove it.”

Tim doesn't ordinarily make a point of irritating kids, but, and this is important to remember, Damian is hilarious when he's annoyed. 

Damian sighs, crosses his arms and looks up at Tim like he's really not sure Tim's all that bright.

“You deserve one another,” Damian says, and goes about repairing the sand castle's walls.

********

An hour later and Damian fires Tim for being even more useless than he'd anticipated.

The sand castle is nearly complete, just needs a few finishing touches Tim is obviously too inept to help with.

“What kind of severance package should I expect?” Tim asks, smiling at the look on Damian's face.

Damian makes a wordless noise of rage and frustration and aggressively ignores Tim in favor of finishing the sand castle. 

Tim smiles, goes to his little plot of land on the beach and takes out his camera, waggling it at Damian who - 

He goes a charming shade of red, and ducks his head. “You don't have to - “

“Damian,” Tim says. “Your sand castle is amazing, don't you want to have a picture of it?”

Damian looks at the sand castle, already beginning to dry out, outer walls starting to crumble. Back to Tim, hesitant, shy almost.

“Come on,” Tim says, gestures for Damian to get into the shot. “I want a few to remember this too, so don't be shy.”

Damian scowls at him for that, eyebrows drawing down sharply, and Tim snaps a picture of him just for that.

He tries not to laugh at Damian's expression, but it's hard not to.

“Imbecile,” Damian mutters, but moves to the sand castle. 

He lets Tim take a small series of pictures with him and sand castle, a few more of the sand castle itself from various angles.

“I'll send these to you,” Tim says, putting his camera away.

There's a distinct sort of silence from Damian.

When Tim looks at him, he sees Damian, this kid, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Damian?”

Damian throws his hands up and stomps over to the guy Tim had noticed earlier.

Tim watches Damian give the guy a verbal beat down before stalking away towards the refreshment booths set up closer to the road.

He waits a minute, two, and walks over to the guy who has this helplessly amused look on his face, still looking after Damian.

“So,” Tim says, takes a seat next to the guy, drawing his knees up. “Is he always like that?”

The guy turns his head to look at Tim, and pushes his sunglasses up so they sit on the top of his head. Smiles an unfairly attractive smile at him.

“Only when people are being exceptionally stupid around him,” he shrugs, smile widening. “Which is pretty much all the time.”

Tim snorts, looks at the guy.

Kind of disgustingly attractive, smile sitting easy on his lips.

“I'm sure he appreciates you using him to get people's attention.”

The guy winces, which, he _should,_ that's a crap thing to do to anyone, let alone a kid like Damian.

“He refuses to let me help him build sand castles anymore, said I was a disaster and a liability and it was a miracle I wasn't dead yet.”

Damian had said that about Tim, too, even after Tim had stopped sabotaging things just to rile Damian up. (Well, everything but that last part, but that was only because Damian doesn't know Tim well enough.)

“I wonder why,” Tim says, gesturing at the braces the guy's wearing.

“Bad knees,” he says. Grimaces. “Horrible tan lines, though. I mean really, awful. The worst.”

Mutters, in what Tim thinks is meant to be an undertone, “Totally not sexy at all.”

Tim bites his lip to keep from laughing, because.

“Did you send him over to build sand castles, or...”

Tim trails off, digs his toes in the ground and wonders what the hell he thinks he's doing, he doesn't know this guy. He could be some weirdly charming serial killer – no, wait – aren't serial killers known to be weirdly charming sometimes?

“Uh.”

Tim blinks, looks at the guy who - 

“...I said that out loud, didn't I?”

“Just the last part?” the guy says, looking like he's trying so very hard not to laugh at Tim.

Tim sighs, drops his head on his knees. “I'd say I'm sorry, but you used a kid to get my attention, so.”

“Don't worry, he'll make me pay for that later.”

Tim laughs, turns his head to look at the guy. “Really not helping me not think of you as a serial killer, by the way.”

He gets a shrug and a blinding smile and -

“Grayson.”

They both look up to see Damian scowling at them, lips a lovely shade of blue from the snow-cone he's holding.

“Drake.”

Tim can't help but smile at the way Damian's mouth turns down as he says his name.

“Damian.”

Damian stares at Tim, makes a disgusted sound and turns his attention to the guy, who is _smiling_.

“Are you done flirting yet? Father expects us back soon.”

Tim snorts at the look on the guy's face at that, elbows him. “Well, are you? I hope not, I didn't even get your name.”

The guy's eyes narrow, head tilting as he looks at Tim.

“Are you being serious right now?”

Because.

“I'm being polite,” Tim says, because of course he knows who they are, it's kind of hard not to in Gotham. 

The guy shakes his head, leans into Tim's side. 

“My name's Dick,” he says, _smiles_ , somehow even more disgustingly attractive than earlier. “What's yours?”

********

In the end, Tim gets Damian's email because he still needs to send him the pictures of his sand castle.

He also gets Dick's phone number and the promise of a date when their schedules allow for it, and an assurance that neither he or Damian are serial killers, weirdly charming or not.


End file.
